


Everything is Awful

by ereshai



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Days, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is having a bad <strike>day</strike> month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything is Awful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icywind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/gifts).



> Previously posted on my tumblr.

Clint Barton is a stubborn man. It hasn’t always served him well, but he’s still alive. He’s still doing his job. He’s not going to let one bad day stop him.

Even if that one bad day is more like a bad month.

He’s tempted to go back to his quarters, crawl under his scratchy, SHIELD-issued blanket, and not get out of bed for a week. He could do it, too. It wouldn’t take much to requisition everything he needs, and he actually has to stop himself from going to the Quartermaster. Or he can go to Medical, but there’s nothing they can do for the tickle at the back of his throat that isn’t going away no matter how much he ignores it.

“Agent Barton,” Coulson calls to him from the other end of the hallway. Clint is usually happy to see his handler - happy for professional and possibly friendshippy reasons, of course, although maybe the right word in that case would be pleased. Who is he kidding, Coulson makes him happy, which is why he doesn’t want to see him right now; he doesn’t need to be reminded of where this relationship isn’t going.

“Agent Barton,” Coulson repeated as he walked toward him. “I need you for a mission.”

“Sir?” There isn’t anything going on that Clint knows about, officially or unofficially.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Something off the books, then. Clint wants to refuse – he knows he can – but he  _likes_  it that Coulson counts on him; he doesn’t want to let him down.

“Sure. What do I need?” He’s already switching into mission mode.

“I’ve got everything set up. Follow me.” With that, Coulson leads him through HQ, and out to the nearby apartment buildings that SHIELD maintains for senior agents and other essential personnel. Clint is on the waiting list for one of the apartments himself; long-term living in what are supposed to be temporary quarters is contributing to his general state of having-a-bad-month. Coulson has an apartment, of course, and it makes sense that they would set up for the op there. Clint has prepped for similar missions in Fury’s own house. They didn’t want to hide what they were doing, after all, just get things moving more quickly than bureaucracy usually allowed. Better to ask forgiveness, and so on.

Coulson leads Clint to his top floor apartment. He’s been there a few times, with Natasha and Jasper usually, for post-mission we-didn’t-get-killed drinks. It’s a smallish place, obviously meant for one occupant, but Coulson doesn’t believe in clutter, so it’s comfortable. It’s still uncluttered, the expected piles of equipment nowhere to be seen. Unless Coulson has stashed them in his bedroom, which only makes sense if they’re starring in a porno. That certainly gives mission prep a whole different meaning, and Clint is going to regret that thought in the future.

“Have a seat. Get comfortable,” Coulson tells him, and then he disappears into the kitchen. This isn’t helping Clint suppress the porny plot starting to play out in his head. He sits on the couch, and suppresses a groan when a title pops into his head –  _Secret Agent Sex_. Stupid, which is par for the course for every porn he’s ever seen. It looks like spending time with Coulson is starting to help his mood, even if it is for a ridiculous reason.

Clint sneezes suddenly, and just like that, everything is shit again. He shouldn’t even go on this mission, whatever it is, not when he’s getting sick. A week in his bed is looking more and more like the best idea ever.

“Coulson,” he begins. Coulson comes out of the kitchen holding a tray with a couple of bowls, spoons, and a package of crackers on it.

“Your boots are still on. I thought I told you to get comfortable,” Coulson says. He sets the tray down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

_Secret Agent Sex_ , Clint thinks, and promptly ignores it. “The mission?”

“I lied; there’s no mission. We’re going to eat this soup, which should soothe your throat, and then we’re going to watch stupid action movies until one or both of us fall asleep. If that doesn’t help, we’ll try something else tomorrow night. Boots off.”

Clint shakes off his stunned paralysis and takes off his boots as ordered, kicking them under the table. He grabs one of the bowls – it looks like chicken noodle soup – and crushes a handful of crackers into it while Coulson picks out a movie and starts it.

The soup is nice and hot, and the couch is comfortable. After he’s done eating, he slumps into the cushions. The movie isn’t anything special, enough to hold his attention but not requiring much thinking to follow along. It’s not entirely on purpose that he eventually finds himself leaning against Coulson; it’s not entirely accidental, either. Coulson grabs the folded blanket sitting on the back of the couch and shakes it out, settling it over Clint.

“Just so you know,” Clint says, “this whole set up was starting to remind me of cheesy porn. Good thing you brought the food out when you did.”

“Porn? It’s a little early in the relationship for that.”

Clint pulls away to get a good look at Coulson. “Relationship?”

Coulson puts his arm around Clint’s shoulders and pulls him close again. “Relationship.”

Clint lets himself relax against Coulson – Phil. “Cool.” After a few moments, he adds, “When  _do_  we get to the porn?”


End file.
